Flight Paths

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            “Lose up to ten pounds the first week!  No dieting!  No exercise!  Eat what you like.  One pill a day will give you the body you have always dreamed of!”

            It’s sad how many people believe those ads.  But it is understandable too.  No one wants to change his lifestyle.  No one wants to go hungry and sweat.  Everyone wants to eat the good stuff and take a magic pill to cure their obesity.

            I know a few people who have that problem with sin too.  They don’t want to change their lives.  They don’t want to admit they even need to change.  They certainly don’t want to make the effort in study, prayer, self-examination, and true repentance.  They think they have the “magic pill,” and here is what it is.

            I can go merrily along if I remember to pray for forgiveness every night, especially for my “secret sins.” 

            I can live my life as I wish as long as I show up Sunday morning and take the Lord’s Supper.

            I can even play at repentance by talking about my imperfections and making statements like, “I know I am a sinner,” so no one can quote 1 John 1:8 at me.

            I have seen it too many times over the years.  I have even done it myself.  I know I am not perfect so a quick prayer for forgiveness every day should take care of the problem.  Far be it from me to actually admit anything specific and work on it.  Have you noticed this about people like that?  Sooner or later they make a statement like this, “If I’ve sinned, I’m sorry.”  They’ve taken yet another diet pill and expect a 15 pound loss of sin in one short minute.

            The real weight loss programs out there are all about accountability.  You show up, you weigh in, you talk about exactly what you have eaten and not eaten, and how much exercise you have or have not had.  Those people tend to lose the weight and keep it off longer.  They understand that this is a lifestyle change, not a magic pill.  And they take responsibility for their actions, both good and bad.

            That’s exactly the way overcoming sin works.  “Confess your faults one to another,” James tells us, “and pray for one another” (5:16)   Everyone participates and everyone helps.

             “Bring forth fruit worthy of repentance,” John told the masses (Matt 3:8).  A quick little prayer or a ritual offering was only the beginning of a lifestyle change that was supposed to be obvious to everyone from then on.

            I’ve heard brethren criticize the Catholic religion as one of convenience.  “You can live as you like as long as you confess every week and do penance.”  Some of us don’t even want to do that much.  Confession is humiliating.  Doing penance is hard work.  It’s far easier to pray for forgiveness every night and show up every Sunday for those few magic bites.  Don’t tell me we aren’t as bad they are—we’re worse!

            Satan is the one who puts out those ads for sin’s magic pills.  Don’t be a “patsy.”  No one is sure where the term came from.  Some suggest it is from the Italian word pazzo.  Do you know what that word means?  “Fool.”  Sounds to me like the perfect word. 

For godly sorrow works repentance unto salvation, a repentance which brings no regret: but the sorrow of the world works death. For behold, this selfsame thing, that you were made sorry after a godly sort, what earnest care it wrought in you, yea what clearing of yourselves, yea what indignation, yea what fear, yea what longing, yea what zeal, yea what avenging! In everything you approved yourselves to be pure in the matter. 2 Corinthians 7:10-11.

Dene Ward       

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            Keith called me outside one Saturday.  I was in the middle of something important and was a little irritated. It is hard enough to do things these days when I have to lean so close, squint so hard, and put up with the resulting headaches trying to see what I am doing.  Then he wants to interrupt me, and I will just have to start all over again.  But I sighed, a louder one than was called for, and dutifully went outside.

            The afternoon sun was waning, for which I was grateful.  No matter how dim the day I have to reach for sunglasses nearly all the time now.  He took me to a shaded spot on the west side of the field and pointed.  Then I saw it, or them as it turned out, probably a hundred dragonflies darting here and there all over the place. 

            He felt bad for me because I could not see them all the time.  In fact, I would not have known what they were had he not told me, but I think my vision of them was the best.  He saw them in the shade as well, when they once again became ugly black bugs, but I only saw them as they came out of the shadows, the sun striking their wings and lighting them up like tiny golden light bulbs.  Then they would disappear, but more would appear in their place, over and over, darting here and there in movements no one could possibly predict.  I think my view was much more magical than his, and therefore far more delightful.  We stood there watching them for several minutes.  I probably could have stood their longer since I had the better view, a view he would never have because he could see so well.

            No matter what we may be going through in this life, God always prepares good things for us, but we will never see them if we always stay inside ourselves, commiserating with ourselves, rewinding over and over the tape of all our troubles till we can recite them from memory to anyone who asks, and even some who don’t.  There is a silver lining somewhere if we just search, and in the searching who knows what treasures we might find? Besides, it will keep us too busy to complain so much.

            Go out there today and look for those silver linings—or the golden dragonflies, or whatever God has specially prepared to help you through this day.  You will find them, but only if you have a mind to.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.  Psalm 23:5,6.

Dene Ward

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Today’s post is by guest writer Keith Ward

            The title tends to be a phrase we rush through between the glory and fear we express at the thought that we can call God our father and explanations why it is or is not proper to say, “Thy Kingdom come” (1Pet 1:17).  Who is even sure what “hallowed” means any way?

            Bible dictionaries say, “To causatively make, pronounce or observe as clean,” or, “To set aside for divine service.”  We are more familiar with the thought, “to make holy,” but have no better understanding of what we must do in a practical way to accomplish this.  One gains a better understanding by reading through all those dull rules in Exodus and Leviticus:

            The Tabernacle was made holy because God was there and all who touched the altar were hallowed by that act.

            If Israel was to be called God’s people, they had to show proper respect for His holiness by keeping themselves clean.  The lists of rules that one must obey to be clean, and the meticulous rituals for purification of uncleanness emphasize the separateness of God and how special it is to be called his people – special and fearful.

            One who violated the hallowed nature of the Sabbath in a minor way was stoned (Num 15:32) and one who was unclean in the most minor way could not partake of the Passover even if his uncleanness happened by accident (Num 6:6-8; 9:6).

            As generations passed, Israel became less awed to be God’s possession and less careful to hallow God by their actions. Finally came the day that God had enough and left the temple; neither it nor the people would any longer be hallowed by his presence among them (Ezek 8-10). In the course of His departure, God ordered a slaughter similar to that for the sin of Baal-Peor (Num 25:1-9; Ezek 9:1-6). As He instructed the angels to spare those with His mark from the divine slaughter, we learn what God considers the true hallowing of his name: “Set a mark upon the foreheads of the men that sigh and that cry over all the abominations that are done.” It clearly was not sufficient to refrain from most of the sins; it was not even enough to avoid them all.  One had to be in abject mourning that those things were being done at all. Then, and only then was the name of God hallowed.

            So, now, how do we feel about saying, “Hallowed be thy name?” Do we measure up any better than those Israelites did?  Going to service of the church and sincerely clearing our minds of all worldly thoughts and cares to truly worship is not enough to hallow God.  Refraining from the various evils in our society is not enough.  Saying these 4 words—Hallowed be thy name—demands that we mourn that sin is being committed at all, anywhere, by anyone, for all are in the presence of God.  

            How can we claim we mourn the sins when we laugh at them on our favorite sitcoms?  Is it an expression of our sorrow at the lusts of the world to peruse the swimsuit issue or watch the lingerie TV specials?  Can we claim to be hallowed by having touched the presence of God on Sunday if we appear at the beach scantily clad during the week?  Will praying a lot and studying a lot make up for all the ways we show that we wish we could participate in these things, if only….?  Where will the “man with the writer’s inkhorn” find anyone to mark among us?

Keith Ward

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            I was sound asleep when it started.  I knew I was asleep but somehow I carried on a regular conversation with myself. 

            “You are too asleep to do anything about this.  Even if you woke Keith up, he could not hear you.  Maybe you could point.”  So I whacked him across the chest with my left arm.  He sat straight up in bed shouting, “Hunh?  What’s happening?”  He turned on the light.

            By then it had started.  I was still asleep, but I was bouncing rhythmically and grunting, “Uh—uh—uh” with every bounce.  He thought I was having convulsions and about to die.

            “What’s wrong?  What’s wrong?  What’s wrong?!!!” 

            I was still asleep and could not answer him.  Even if I had been awake, I probably could not have said anything.  It hurt that badly.  Finally I managed to point (still sleeping), and somehow—being married for 39 years maybe?—he figured it out.  I had a charley horse.  But which leg?  He just grabbed the one nearest and started pushing against my heel and rubbing my calf muscle.  He got the right leg—actually the left leg, but it was the right one.

            Finally I woke up.  I lifted my toes and pushed against his hand.  Five minutes later it was over with, but I still had a knot in my calf muscle the next morning and it took fifteen minutes before I could walk flat-footed.

            Charley horses must be the worst pain possible for something that is so harmless.  They will not kill you—you just wish they would for a minute or two.  Then you realize that it will soon be over and everything will be fine.

            That is the way the early Christians dealt with trials and persecution.  Peter says, now for a little while, if necessary, you have been put to grief in many trials.  He recognized that they were grievous, they did hurt, but they were only “for a little while.”  After telling his readers that they would suffer, the Hebrew writer says, For you have need of patience, that, having done the will of God, you may receive the promise. For yet a very little while, He who comes shall come, and shall not tarry Heb 10:36,37.

            Sometimes that grief is tremendous.  It certainly was for those Christians.  We all recognize that we must die.  We know that one or the other spouse will, in most cases, go before the other.  That is normal.  We all know that we will bury our parents.  That is the natural order.  It still hurts, but we understand it.  When the unnatural happens, it hurts even more.  I have known women who dealt with widowhood in their 30s and 40s.  My own in-laws buried a ten year old daughter whom cancer had stolen from them.  I cannot imagine the pain.  I know one good sister who had to endure both of those things—a widow at 40 and an only child, a daughter, who died unexpectedly a long time before she did.

            How did she make it?  She realized that these trials are transitory.  They do not last.  That trite old saying is trite because it is true, “This too will pass.”  Only one thing lasts—the joy we will have as we exist forever with our Father and Savior.  Hang on to that hope.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to his great mercy begat us again unto a living hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, unto an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, that fades not away, reserved in heaven for you, who by the power of God are guarded through faith unto a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been put to grief in manifold trials, that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold that perishes though it is proved by fire, may be found unto praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ: whom not having seen you love; on whom, though now you see him not, yet believing, you rejoice greatly with joy unspeakable and full of glory: receiving the end of your faith, the salvation of your souls. 1 Pet 1:3-9.

Dene Ward

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            No, I didn’t marry Steve.  I married Keith Ward.  If ever there was a man who understood that religion isn’t a “woman thing,” that as leader of the family, the buck stopped with him, it’s this man.  The Bible was read and discussed every day in our home.  Bible lessons were done.  Sermons were dissected and analyzed.  By the time they were twelve, our sons knew more Bible than most adults.  When they hit Florida College, freshman Bible was an easy A.

            And me?  This man is the original enabler.  He taught me how to study.  He bought me books.  He answered my questions.  He arranged his schedule so he could watch the children while I taught classes.  He proofread material, offered suggestions, and made corrections.  Ultimately he footed a huge bill so we could print Born of a Woman.

            He is the one who suggested the blog and he hands out far more blog cards than I do.  Now, with my vision slowly declining, he drives me to the classes I teach and to speaking engagements, and still offers the same services proofreading and commenting.

            He does this without complaint and without resentment, despite the fact that his full-time preaching career, the only thing he wanted to do with his life, ended many years ago.  Since then he has held a few meetings, lectured at Florida College, and filled in at a dozen different congregations, but that is not what he had in mind.  Some men couldn’t live with that.  Some men would have kept their wives out of the limelight if they couldn’t have a share, especially men with so much knowledge and ability as he. 

            I’ve taught classes where some of the women could not attend because their husbands refused to “babysit.”  Excuse me?  They are his children, not his hobby.  But he had been “working all day and shouldn’t be expected to do that too.”  So his wife’s spirituality suffered when she missed an opportunity to learn, unimpeded by wrestling with babies.

            I’ve taught classes where as soon as it became apparent that she was becoming more knowledgeable than he, suddenly she was no longer allowed to attend.  Far be it from him to actually study enough to keep up with her.

            I’ve taught classes where, even though there were no children, he expected her home with him every night.  He certainly didn’t want a quick and easy dinner so she could make a seven o’clock’ class, especially if it left the dishes for him to do (if she were lucky).

            In forty years I have seen all kinds of husbands, and I know how blessed I am.  Keith Ward understands what God expects of him.  He is the spiritual leader of this family and he knows he will be held accountable for where its members end up. 

            So will every man, especially those who take such stock in being (thumbs pulling on suspenders and chest puffed out) “Head of the house.”  Any man who wants the title had better live up to it.  I’ve shown you four men who did.  They are worthy of your admiration and imitation.

Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself up for it; that he might sanctify it, having cleansed it by the washing of water with the word, that he might present the church to himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish. Even so ought husbands also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He that loves his own wife loves himself: for no man ever hated his own flesh; but nourishes and cherishes it, even as Christ also the church; Ephesians 5:25-29.

Dene Ward

Twenty years ago I saw a dress in a catalog that I adored.  My style tends to be plain, tailored, and dark.  I generally like a blousy waistline because it makes me look like I have one, which I haven’t had since I was about two years old.  Every time that catalog came, I salivated over that dress, a black shirtwaist with long button-cuff sleeves and a broad, white collar embroidered on the edges.  At that time we just couldn’t afford it.  Feeding two teenage boys and paying a mortgage on a state salary and music studio tuitions was almost more than we could handle.

            A couple of years ago I was wandering through a second hand clothing store.  You would be surprised the bargains you can find if you are careful.  I have bought name brands for literally one-tenth their original price, some of them with the original price tags still on them, the extra buttons still sealed in plastic. 

            That day I saw the black arms hanging out from the press of the rack; I saw the white collar.  Could it be?  I checked the neckline for the label and found the old catalog name.  So I pulled it out and felt a thrill.  This was the dress I had wished for.  Twenty years ago it was a $45 dress.  This store wanted $6.00!  Then came the moment of truth:  I checked the size.  Yes!  Just to make sure, I tried it on, and then quickly shelled out my $6 and change for tax.  It almost made me believe in fate.

            This dress is long sleeved and a fairly heavy knit so it was just after Thanksgiving before I could wear it here in Florida.  I wore it to church that Sunday.  One of the first people I saw, a sweet five year old, came running up and exclaimed, “Mrs. Dene!  You look just like a pilgrim!”  I laughed a little, gave her a hug and thanked her.  Before I was halfway down the hall, another child came running up and said the same thing, word for word. 

            Okay, I thought.  I look like a pilgrim.  Maybe it’s too close to Thanksgiving to wear this.

            In the middle of January I wore it again.  A third sweet child gave me the same compliment.  It was enough to make me wonder, do they teach this phrase in the Bible classes these days?  But I suppose what capped it all was a good friend who came up to me and laughed, saying, “You look like a pilgrim!”

            I am about ready to donate this dress to another thrift store.  All I can see when I look in the mirror are the missing white cap, buckled shoes and white stockings.  It certainly isn’t what I thought of when I used to moon over that catalog.

            I wonder if Abraham and Sarah had in mind the pilgrim life God had planned for them when they answered the call to “Go to a land I will show you.”  That doesn’t necessarily sound like they would always be nomads.  It doesn’t sound like they would never have an earthly home again.  When someone tells me to go, usually they have a specific destination in mind.

            Even if they didn’t understand that in the beginning, they finally did.  By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he went to live in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God, Heb 11:8-10.  Eventually they knew they would never have a home on this earth, that the real one was waiting beyond the border of physical life and death.

            We must eventually, and as soon as possible, learn the same thing.  Our culture is too caught up in the here and now, in instant gratification, in “if it feels good do it.”  We think this is what matters.  That’s why we let it bother us so much when things do not go right.  That’s why we become angry over the inconsequential and throw away the truly valuable, including our hope.  They made me mad and they are going to know it!  They took what’s mine, and I have a right to take it back.  They hurt me and now I am going to hurt them—usually in exactly the same low way they hurt me. 

            If I know what it means to be a pilgrim in this world, none of that matters.  I don’t need to throw a tantrum.  I don’t need to get even.  I don’t need to have more and more and more because everyone else has it.  I don’t even need an easy, carefree life with no trials.  It will never compare to Heaven no matter how wonderful it is, and it certainly isn’t worth giving up Heaven for.

            Maybe I should keep the “Pilgrim” dress.  Maybe it will remind me of things I need to remember, when I need most to remember them.  Maybe I need to wear it for you, too.

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city, Heb 11:13,15.

Dene Ward

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Oh the pains of learning to dress yourself. 

            I remember my little boys, determined that they no longer needed Mom’s help, carefully laying out their shirts on the bed.  As soon as they saw their favorite super-hero or cartoon character looking at them, they just knew they had it right.  So they leaned over, grabbed the hem, and slipped the tee shirt over their heads, only to look down and see the blank backside of the shirt swathing their tummies.  So they ripped it off over their heads and tried again.  This time it was on front side to the front, but inside out. 

            Sometimes they wore it out the door inside out before I could catch them.  We had lessons on seams and labels, and finally they figured it out, more often than not anyway.  As we all grow up, though, we must learn that “inside out” is the way a Christian is supposed to operate every day.

            Babies have only their own perspectives.  If they cannot see you, then you cannot see them.  If they cannot feel it, it cannot be felt and is not important.  If they want it, no one else should have it.  Eventually we learn to think from other perspectives, those outside of our own.  We realize that just because I cannot see you with my covered up eyes, that does not mean my whole body is hidden. 

            Eventually, we learn to think about others’ feelings, turning our thoughts “inside out.”  At least, that is the way it is supposed to work.  Too many times though, we operate as if the feelings inside ourselves are the only that matter, ready to excuse ourselves without giving the other person the same benefit. 

            If I cut someone off in traffic, it is because I am late for an important appointment.  If the other guy does it to me, it is because he is an inconsiderate jerk. 

            If I snap at my spouse, it is because I have had a rough day, I’m tired and have a headache.  If he does it to me, it is because he is a louse. 

            If I don’t speak to a brother when I walk in the meetinghouse door, it is because I have a lot on my mind and did not see him.  If he does not speak to me, it is because he has something against me. 

            My opinion is carefully thought out and makes sense; yours is ridiculous—how can you possibly be so dumb?

            Thinking and feeling inside out is hard to do.  It takes work and thought, two things 21st century Americans try to avoid at all costs.  Christians are supposed to be different.  Oh the pain of learning to think like Christ, who counted not being on an equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant.  But if he is my Lord, my seams and labels will show; everyone will know I belong to him.  If they cannot tell, I have my religion on backwards!

If there is therefore any exhortation in Christ, if any consolation of love, if any fellowship of the Spirit, if any tender mercies and compassions, make full my joy, that you be of the same mind, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind; doing nothing through faction or through vainglory, but in lowliness of mind each counting other better than himself; not looking each of you to his own things, but each of you also to the things of others, Phil 2:1-4.

Dene Ward

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Last year I created a new study for the women I worship with, a study in the book of Psalms.  That means you will be getting a lot from that particular class in the next year or so, and eventually a new set of gleanings to look through. 

            The first five lessons have been prep lessons, studies in the history of the psalms, the nature of Hebrew poetry, the types of psalms, and the place of music in Old Testament worship.  What has amazed me are the little asides we have come up with—incidental lessons one can draw from hard facts.  We forget that sometimes, and ridicule those who insist on fact learning as being somehow less than spiritual in their outlooks.  Not so, my friends, for those who ignore the facts often make mistakes deadly to their souls.  God had a reason for recording these things so it would behoove us to learn them.

            Here is one for you.  David spent chapter after chapter telling Solomon how to build the Temple.  His instructions were detailed and specific.  Do you think he came up with this all by himself?  I have heard it said so, but David said otherwise.

            Be careful now, for the LORD has chosen you to build a house for the sanctuary; be strong and do it." Then David gave Solomon his son the plan of the vestibule of the temple, and of its houses, its treasuries, its upper rooms, and its inner chambers, and of the room for the mercy seat… All this he made clear to me in writing from the hand of the LORD, all the work to be done according to the plan. 1 Chron. 28:10, 11, 19)

            Even in the disposition of the music and the musicians, David says the command came from God, not his own preferences.  And he stationed the Levites in the house of the LORD with cymbals, harps, and lyres, according to the commandment of David and of Gad the king's seer and of Nathan the prophet, for the commandment was from the LORD through his prophets. 2 Chronicles 29:25.  May I just say this about that?  When God wanted instrumental music, He knew exactly how to command it, and he was quite specific about when, how, and what was to be used.

            When I was a music student at the University of South Florida, several of my professors expressed amazement at my religious beliefs concerning music in the services.  “You are a pianist,” they said.  “Don’t you want to use your talent in service to the God who gave it?”

            When I explained as patiently and respectfully as I knew how, “What I want is to give God the service He requires, not the service I prefer,” they were dumbfounded.  It had never crossed their minds, evidently, that the One being served had the right to demand a certain kind of service and would not accept anything else, in fact, would count it as rebellion.

            David never decided what he liked and imposed it upon God.  This is the man who said, “I will not offer to God that which cost me nothing.”  He knew that service to God involved sacrifice, including the sacrifice of what he liked and did not like, what he preferred and did not prefer.  David was truly a servant of God, not a servant of himself. 

            In every aspect of life, which are you?

They serve a copy and shadow of the heavenly things. For when Moses was about to erect the tent, he was instructed by God, saying, "See that you make everything according to the pattern that was shown you on the mountain." Hebrews 8:5.

Dene Ward

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            A long time ago, Keith was teaching the high school on Sunday morning, something in Judges or Kings as I remember.  He had a young visitor, a visiting preacher’s daughter.  All of a sudden she asked in a less than respectful tone, “What are you doing teaching from the Old Testament on the Lord’s Day?  You should always teach from the New Testament on Sundays!”  Of course, her father, in a meeting later that week, taught that Psalm 58:6, Break out the great teeth of the young lions, O Jehovah, meant that as soon as a child started losing his baby teeth he had reached the age of accountability, so what can you expect?

            I can remember a time when the Old Testament was never taught, when in fact, a lot of folks never even carried it. They kept only a thin New Testament in their coat pockets, because “the Old has been nailed to the cross—we don’t need it any longer.”  Don’t ever think that knowledge of the Old Testament is now totally unnecessary   How did the apostles teach about Jesus?  They taught from the Old Testament.  They quoted prophecies extensively and showed how the man Jesus fulfilled them all, and thus was not some ordinary man.  Read practically any sermon in Acts and that will become clear.  If they do not quote the Old Testament, they allude to it clearly.

            When Paul spoke to Timothy about his upbringing, from a babe you have known the sacred writings which are able to make you wise unto salvation through faith which is Christ Jesus, 2 Tim 3:15, he was talking about the Old Testament.  No one had even started writing the New when Timothy was a small child.

            Though teaching facts is essential and the first kind of teaching any child can understand, in the long run teaching facts is not the job of the educator.  When all a child knows is facts, his knowledge will always be limited.  When you teach a child principles, he will be able to teach himself facts for the rest of his life.  When I told my children what to do or not to do, I expected them to eventually use the principles I had taught them to figure out circumstances I had not been able to specifically prepare them for.  When they did not, I was disappointed, and usually said something like, “How many times do I have to tell you?  You are smarter than this.”  God spent thousands of years preparing us with principles we can use now.  Does He have to tell us everything again?  Aren’t we smarter than that?

            Most any element of the New Testament can be better understood and become more meaningful if you understand its parallel in the Old.  I once tried to make a point about the Lord’s Supper by pointing out something about the Passover feast.  After all, Jesus instituted this feast during a Passover meal using elements from that meal, and Paul says plainly in 1 Cor 5:7, For our Passover has been sacrificed, even Christ.  The person I was speaking with totally dismissed my point because the New Testament did not say it word for word.  Here was a person who truly had not comprehended the relationship between the testaments and how God had prepared not only the Israelites, but all of us who will take the time necessary to study, for the full glory of the gospel.

            The more you know, even things that seem like meaningless details, the more you will comprehend, the more it will touch your heart, the harder you will try to live up to the wonderful blessings we have in Christ Jesus, the fulfillment of the Old Testament. . 

So the law has become our schoolmaster to bring us to Christ, that we might be justified by faith.  For the things written aforetime were written for our learning that through patience and comfort of the scriptures we might have hope, Gal 3:24; Rom 15:4.

Dene Ward

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            The year after I began teaching Bible classes I dated a fourth year Bible student at Florida College.  I was only a senior in high school, but lived just across the river from Temple Terrace, only a mile as the crow flies from campus, and we attended the same congregation.  I accompanied him to his various preaching appointments and we visited at gospel meetings most Friday nights. With him I had my first experiences on campus at Thursday night devotionals down by the river. 

            The night he picked me up after play practice at high school, my stock there went through the roof.  Here I was, the quiet girl who kept mostly to herself, whom no one had ever seen with any guy at all, and suddenly a six foot stud appears who makes all the boys there look about 12, and he has come for me!  His name was Steve Bobbitt.

            The relationship came to its natural end when he graduated and moved on to his first preaching job and I graduated high school with a couple of scholarships and a major in mind.  So what did he have to do with my spiritual development?

            Exposure for one thing.  From him I first heard the words homiletics, hermeneutics, and apologetics.  He didn’t assume a girl wouldn’t care about such things, or even understand them.  We often studied together and I’d flip through his classbooks, real college textbooks about the Bible, which fanned my curiosity.  He answered my questions like they were important, not like they were a bother.  He listened to my thoughts and opinions like they made sense.  Today, even some of the men who know I am not an idiot still have that slight air of condescension about them when I say something about a Bible subject.  But Steve listened—he treated it like an investment he cared about.

            I made the mistake once of complaining about “being a woman and not getting to do anything.”  We were headed somewhere down a dark two lane highway, but he immediately pulled the car over and gave me a lecture that amounted to, “Don’t ever say that again.  There’s plenty you can do.”

            For graduation he gave me a one volume commentary that I have nearly used up, especially in preparing classes and writing class material.  Part of his inscription reads, “Here is a book to help your understanding of the Book of books.  May the Word of God ever guide you along the roads of life until you at last pass safely through the Arch of Triumph.”

            I have met two of Steve’s children, and one son-in-law.  It is apparent that he continued in his duties as a spiritual leader all through his life, which ended far too soon a few years ago.  He has already found that “Arch of Triumph” and I plan to see him there again one day.

            We were young, but this man, even in our youthful relationship, one that was bound to end in a few months, felt a responsibility toward me.  A man’s duty as a spiritual leader is not confined to family relationships.  It’s about whoever you come into contact with, especially in a relationship where you are the natural leader, whether by age or gender or role or, in our case, a few of those things combined.  He left an impact on me that the next man, the last one, could bring to completion.  Because of the three men who came before, the pump was primed, but the job was not yet finished.

Iron sharpens iron, so a man sharpens the mind of his friend,  Prov 27:17.

Dene Ward

For hints, help, and instructions on using this blog, click on the FAQ/Tutorial page on the left sidebar.)